


Frozen Fire

by LadyOfDragonstone



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Ghost is my bean, Implied and mentioned smut in the end but nothing explicit in this one lol, Jon cares about Dany's safety, Jon is my blushing son, Kissing, Sisters being sisters lol, The Starks and Dany are tense but they can't help but to like each other, familly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-18 02:20:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14202957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOfDragonstone/pseuds/LadyOfDragonstone
Summary: The Starks invite Daenerys over for their first supper together in private; Jon has a gift for Dany; Ghost loves his new mom. Set in the beginning of Season 8 with book canon mixed in.





	Frozen Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr as @Violet-eyes-silver-hair

“Your Grace,” Sansa called once she arrived. She curtsied befor her in icy politeness, “You do us a great honor in dining with us.”

Sansa looked over at her sister, waiting for her to greet the Queen as well. Daenerys thought she saw Arya’s lip cured in annoyance, very reminiscent of Jon, but it was so quick, she must have she imagined it. Still, she had to suppress a grin of endearment; The girl did look a lot like her brother.

“Your Grace,” she said, dipping her chin slightly. This was only their second night dining together in Winterfell, and their first night dining without any sworn lords or advisors by their sides. The first day had been a blur of news about her undead child and the Night King, this private supper came almost as a relief.

Daenerys nodded, “The honor is mine. Thank you for inviting me into your home, my ladies.”

Her neck prickled a bit, and the girls looked past her with amused eyes, so she turned to see the great white direwolf right behind her. She swallowed down a yelp and clutched at the table behind her, startled by his sudden presence. Like his master, he was silent in everything. The wolf was nearly as tall as a pony, and the Queen was short of stature herself, so she only had to lower her eyes slightly to meet the red, garnet ones. Dany smiled down at him and reached out a hand for him to sniff. This was unfamiliar too, but welcomed all the same.

“Hello, Ghost,” she hummed as he licked her palm.

The wolf’s presence could only mean one thing, but Daenerys stalled for some time, scratching the soft tufts of fur behind his ears, before raising her eyes to meet him. He looked as weary as she felt, with dark circles under his eyes, but he smiled fondly at them all the same. Jon Snow had no need for words sometimes, and Dany had found that she liked that about him.

His stillness was almost comforting as he moved closed and reached out a hand to scratch Ghost’s head, gloved fingers brushing with her own briefly before he turned aside and pulled a chair out for her. She thanked him and sat down, endeared once again as the wolf sat between them, resting his head down on her lap. Daenerys stifled down a giggle and looked up expectantly at Jon with pursed lips, trying to remain composed. 

“You have to leave the Queen alone, boy,” he said, as if talking to a little brother. When the wolf did not budge from her lap, Jon took a firmer tone, “Ghost, down.” 

He did not look to his master, but finally curled up at her feet in obedience. Daenerys smiled indulgently, enjoying this new side of Jon’s life. Servants came around the oak table, settling mouth-watering dishes in front of them. Sansa cleared her throat, her steely gaze flickering between them.

“Apologies about the wolf,” she said, turning sharply to Jon, “Perhaps he ought to go outside?”

“Why?” Arya cut in, annoyed, “Ghost was here before her.” 

Jon looked between apologetic and amused, but his tone was stern, “Arya.” 

“It’s quite alright, wolves don’t scare me,” she said mildly, taking a goblet as a cupbearer filled it with spiced wine, and taking a sip. 

The Stark girls looked to their brother, but he only shifted uncomfortably and looked around the hall. “Where’s Bran?” 

“In his room, I’d say.” Arya filled her plate greedily with sausages, a wedge of cheese, meat pies and onions without caring if the food cluttered her plate. 

Sansa took a dainty spoonful of her broth before looking back at Jon, “He’s having another one of his visions again, and doesn’t like being disturbed. He’ll eat only when he’s hungry, but often times we have to remind him or else he’ll forget.”

Daenerys was puzzled, “Doesn’t he grow hungry?”

The girls exchanged a sad, knowing look. 

“No,” Arya said, looking grimly at Jon, “He’s not the same, Bran. He speaks to us like we’ve only just met, but tells us of how he’s been watching us with his third eye. He sees things about people that only they could know about themselves.”

That last part she said while looking at Daenerys, almost as if trying to spook her, but not as hostile as most. She filled her own plate as Jon answered, taking off his own gloves. 

“He hadn’t woken up the last time I saw him,” he reflected, “It’s almost as if he’s not truly awake, still.”

Dany placed a hand on his arm and squeezed lightly, “Your brother has been through a lot. This war has not been kind to the children of summer, but Bran will return to you. When he is ready.”

Jon didn’t look convinced, but he nodded gratefully. 

Arya shook her head, “I don’t think he will.” 

“You don’t know that,” Sansa countered, sounding as if she wanted to believe it.

Her sister lowered her gaze in dismayed contemplation, “We’ve all changed too much. There is no returning from that. The sorcery in him is past our power.” 

Then Dany remembered other children: hollow-eyed and pale, crucified to posts as mile markers on her way to Meereen. Hot anger surged through her as it had when she first saw them, and she squeezed Jon’s arm harder than she should have.

“No,” she said stubbornly, surprising the Starks, “There must be something we can do to help him.” 

Sansa eyed her curiously, “I don’t think he wants to be helped. He says he’s the three-eyed raven now. He has … magic of sorts, how can we break him from that?”

“His is not the only magic there is, though,” Daenerys insisted, her food forgotten, “Witches and Warlocks, my dragons, your brother, and even the Night King. Magic has returned to the world. Surely not all of it is poison?”

Jon had flinched at the mention of his magic, but he nodded in agreement, “There are wargs and skinchangers beyond the wall. Wildlings with knowledge long forgotten to kneelers. I’ll not lose another brother to this war. So long as Bran takes breath, he is our blood. When the war is over, we will see to it that he returns to himself.” He reached looked down to his plate, as if he were talking to himself, “I swear it, I’ll not lose another brother.”

“You won’t.” Daenerys moved to squeeze at his hand, and Jon squeezed back. It took her aback seeing that the girls shifted uncomfortably at the show of affection, but she would not relent that for them. She knew Jon loved them, but they were strangers still, and had no say where her heart was concerned. They will grow accustomed to it, and to me, Dany told herself. 

She met their eyes with an inquiring gaze, “How old are you, my ladies?”

That broke them off the trance, as Sansa busied herself with her food once again and Arya straightened up, “Seventeen. Nearly eighteen, your Grace.”

She nodded, “You’re young.”

That seemed to offend her slightly, but she kept her composure. “I’m no child.” 

“You’re not,” she agreed, untangling her hand from Jon’s and raising a goblet to her lips, then adding, “I was younger than you when I first married.”

Jon was stunned, “My sister is not getting married anytime soon.” Then he looked back to Arya with horrified uncertainty, “Are you?” 

“Seven hells, Jon! No!” She declared, with a startled laugh of her own. That was enough to break the tension, making Jon grin, and Dany chuckle. Sansa tilted her hear curiously at her sister, but said nothing.

“Someday, perhaps,” Dany said, smiling down into her cup, “Though I would advise to wait later rather than sooner, if that is your wish.”

“I don’t want to marry,” Arya blurted out, flustered and growing red. 

“Then do not,” Dany gave her a kind smile, and turned to Sansa with a sobered expression, “Tyrion tells me you two were married, but as it was never consummated, and against both your wills, I could grant you a royal annulment, if that is your wish.”

The older sister would be harder to earn her favor, Dany knew, but the blue eyes flashed with a moment of gratitude. Sansa dipped her chin courteously, “Thank you, your grace.”

Then they dug into their food for a pleasant moment of silence, enjoying the warmth of the hall and the smells that were coming off the plates. Jon sighed into his horn of ale; Dany raised her eyebrow, and was met with one of his rare smiles.

“Southron wine is not bad,” he reflected, “But nothing tastes half as good as Northern ale after a shit day.” 

Sansa looked mortified, but Daenerys laughed, “I can see that.”

The tension had slowly seeped from the room, and she felt warmer with wine and food in her belly. Perhaps the Starks must have felt so too, because they began to engage in conversation.

“You say you met warlocks?” Arya asked, looking down into her plate to feign disinterest. 

Dany took to her rather well, “Yes, in Qarth.”

The girl chewed her lip before prompting her again, in bold tones, “They have sorceries?” 

The other Starks listened raptly as she spoke, curious to see if it was true.

“They used to.” Daenerys’ voice was cool, “Before they crossed me. They took me and my dragons, you see.”

Jon paled, tightening his grip on the horn of ale, but said nothing. 

“Well, they tried,” she amended quickly, “It’s as I said, dragons are not slaves. We burned the warlocks in their palace, and then we escaped unharmed. My dragons were smaller than cats but fierce, even then.”

That seemed to fascinate Arya. She leaned into the table, “You had them as babies?” 

For the first time since her arrival, Sansa cracked a smile. “Baby dragons,” she hummed, “That must have been a sweet sight to see.”

“Aye,” Jon agreed, wistfully, “Though they’re quite a sight when they’re large too.” He put down his ale, and snuck his hand into his cloak, “I nearly forgot. I have something for you.”

Dany blushed despite herself as he took out a small, thin bundle of wrapped leather. The sisters were intrigued too, though they looked apprehensive again. 

Jon placed the bundle on the table and eyed his sisters hesitantly, “If you want some, I could see to it that you have them as well. But you two seem to have no need of them.” 

“Of what?” Dany asked, trying to conceal her eager curiosity into another sip of wine. 

He thrust the leather bundle in front of her, and watched as Daenerys flipped the folds back to reveal a slim dagger. She unsheathed the obsidian blade had been secured with ornate, silver coils wrought into metal braids that threaded around the crossguard of the hilt. Silver braids, Dany thought. The grip was finely tooled leather, dyed black with crimson flakes; the pommel was the head of a dragon, carved from black onyx stone. At first look, she thought she eyes of the dragon were rubies, but to her delight, they were garnet chips. Red on black, the Targaryen colors. 

Her silence must have been longer than she realized, because Jon cleared his throat, “Of course, you have your dragons and your armies. I just thought, if you ever find yourself alone-”

Daenerys threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. The kiss was a chaste, but it was enough to reassure him. She released him at once, trying to receded back into her seat, but she couldn’t keep the smile from her lips. She avoided the Stark’s eyes as she reddened, picking up the dagger with careful hands. Ghost stirred, and stood up beside her again, tall enough to peer over her shoulder. She moved the blade higher so that he could sniff at it.

“It’s lovely,” she breathed out, examining it over. Daenerys could not remember the last time someone granted her anything without expecting something in return. She swallowed back the lump in the throat and put the dragonglass dagger back on the table, “Thank you, Jon.” 

“Some call dragonglass frozen fire, because it kills wights. If you wish to carry it, we can find you a belt and a sheath, if only for the mean time. It would be good for you to stay safe.” 

“I’d like that.” She smiled down at the dagger, “Though I don’t even know the first thing about using a blade.” 

“It’s easy.” Dany looked up, and say Arya smiling at them, “You stick them with the pointy end.”

They all chuckled, even Sansa. She smiled as well, “That’s a blade fit for a Queen, where did you come by it, brother?” 

Jon reached out a hand to pet Ghost, “I know a talented blacksmith.” Then he stood up, “I’d like to retire for the night, I’ll see you lot on the morrow.” 

Arya snorted, “Why are you telling us? You’re the king, stupid. We should be asking foy your leave.” 

He smiled, and offered Dany his hand. She wrapped the dagger back into the leather folds and stood to take his arm. The Starks had grown weary at that again, but less so than before. 

Dany smiled, almost shyly, “My ladies, if there’s anything I could do for you, you need only ask.” 

Sansa and Arya stood up. The redhead dipped her chin, “Of course, your grace. We’ll see you on the morrow.” 

Arya was already by the other end of the hall, opening the doors brusquely, and grinning to Dany, “Don’t keep him up too late, he looks exhausted already.” 

Jon coughed uncomfortably, but before either of them could reply, she was gone. Sansa took a deep breath to release her annoyance, then left the hall with a curt nod. The pair walked arm in arm to the other side, and out into the hall. Dany smiled down at her dagger again. 

“Did you mean to make them so similar?” she wondered under her breath, loud enough for him to hear.

“Make what?” he said, stifling a knowing smile. 

Daenerys looked down at Ghost, then at the pommel of his own Valryan sword, “They’re almost a matching set, I’d say. But white and black, wolf and dragon.” 

“The pommels?” Jon finally said, reddening a bit, “I hope you don’t mind.” 

She halted in the middle of the empty hallway, and snaked her arms around his neck once more. This time, the kiss was longer, but when she pulled back, he held her hips close with his hands. 

Daenerys nuzzled into his neck and whispered, “Let’s go to our chambers, love, I have a gift for you as well.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're going to commend negatively about Sansa, you can hit the back button pal. 
> 
> BTW, I was so proud of my description of the Dragonglass blade, sue me! ASOIAF is getting to me.
> 
> Let me know what you think :)))


End file.
